of pretenses
by breathedstardust
Summary: ( MOVIE VERSE ) Olive can't quite comprehend how Enoch could be so surly and soft at the exact same time.


_Olive can go marry Jake for all I care._

The words rang inside her head since the moment they left Enoch's lips, and now it was the reason for her incessant tossing and turning in bed.

It wasn't as if Olive wanted to marry Jake; she didn't want anything like that with him but friendship. She missed Abe dearly, and since he and Jake were so alike it was hard not to be drawn to him.

Besides, marriage was out of the picture for her, anyway. For all of them in the house.

Gloved hands throw aside her blanket roughly before sitting up in bed, contemplating on whether or not it would be a good idea to follow her current impulses. She decides against sleeping it off after a beat and silently makes her way towards the room at the end of the hall, not hesitating to knock on the wooden door once there. She knows he's awake. Enoch never slept whenever there was a heated argument the night before.

"Enoch? Can we talk?"

She could hear the snipping sound of his scissors through the door, though there's a small pause before he tells her to come in.

"Can't sleep, Olive? Too busy thinkin' about our Abe-two-point-oh, are we?" He doesn't look up from his dolls as he speaks but the bitter tone of his voice was enough to make her hesitate on what to say.

 _Yes and no,_ she thinks. But Jake wasn't the only one on her mind, and he certainly wasn't there for whatever assumptions Enoch seemed to have. Olive fiddles with the loose strings of her nightgown's sleeves as she says, "I was thinking about what you said at dinner last night, actually. I-"

"Yeah, I know, I know," he cuts her off. "It was rude to talk about dear old Abe the way I did. I'll apologize in the morning."

"I meant the part about Jake and I." The words tumble out a beat too quickly; Olive hopes he doesn't take it as her being giddy about talking about Jake.

She notices the frown on his face deepen into a scowl while he stands from his workplace and walks towards the shelves, scanning his jars of hearts with absolute disregard for her presence.

"Did you... did you really mean what you said then, Enoch? That you could care less if Jake was to become my husband and I his wife?"

Enoch's posture stiffens, his hand lingering on one jar far too long as she spoke.

A few moments of silence pass before the scrape of glass on wood fills the air, then another and another. "It's not like it's going to happen, Olive. Don't get your hopes up." He set the jars down on the edge of the table, then he faces her, arms crossed and brows furrowed in scrutiny. "You and Jake aren't getting married."

She maintains the eye contact for a short while only before averting her gaze elsewhere, particularly to the ground. _What did he mean?_

"That's not answer," she mumbles.

"I don't have enhanced hearing senses, you know."

"I said that's not an answer, Enoch." Her reply comes out in a louder tone than her usual soft one and she finds herself just as surprised as he is after. "Your reply… it isn't an answer to my question." She reverts back to her soft tone, only gazing up at him for a split second before looking away again.

She silently debates on simply leaving it at that and going back to her room when she hears him release a sigh, mixed with irritation and exhaustion, preceded by the sound of his footsteps approaching her.

He stops when they're left with what seemed like a mere three inches apart, dark eyes boring into her.

"Just - just forget I said anything. I think I'll just go to bed." Her hand comes down to push the knob open only to have his bare hand cover her gloved one and shut it again. Olive makes the mistake of looking up at Enoch, for their close proximity made it impossible to look away. They were so near each other now.

She thinks he's going to spit some snide remark that she'll take as a signal to leave, but he does the most surprising thing in all the years she's lived with him in the house - he reaches out to touch her, deft fingers gently stroking the ends of her hair.

"Because you're not his for the taking," he simply says, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, head tilting slightly to the left as he does so. Enoch looks at her, the fury in his eyes now gone and replaced with ferocity. "You know just as well as I that you're not."

"Because… because of being in the loop?" Olive stutters uneasily. A part of her wanted him to say yes, yet a part of her wanted to say another answer. That she wasn't up for Jake's taking because she was already _his_.

But she knew him well enough, so she knew he'd never allow himself to say something like that.

She searches his eyes for anything of yearning or sincerity but finds none; he either wasn't conveying any, or he wore his mask extremely well.

 _I wish I was that good at hiding my emotions._ "Good night, Enoch." She pushes the door open and abruptly turns to leave, but is

stopped when she feels his hand close around her arm. His grip was tight, but only for a second, because the next thing she could feel was his thumb tracing small circular patterns on the skin just before the opening of her glove.

"I won't be his anything." Olive turns around to face him again. "Ever."

He lets out a scoff and she wonders how he could possibly be both soft and snarky at the exact same time. "You can't."

"I won't - there's a difference."

She notices Enoch's brow raise in mild surprise at her statement, but whether it was because it was a smart one or not she didn't know. Yet another thing to ponder on tonight.

Enoch releases his grip on her after that. Despite the warmth of the fire in her veins, the spot his hand leaves feels uncharacteristically cold.

"Good night, Olive."

Then he closes his door and she lingers there for another moment before walking away. She was certainly not going to get much sleep tonight.


End file.
